Ester fixed her eyes on Gloria and said, ‘You still interested?’
Gloria bit her nail, spat it out. ‘Depends, don’t it? Like how much is in it. Right now this is all fantasy, she got us riding up like Annie Get Your Gun — I dunno what’s in her head. Does she expect us to start blasting the train from the horses? Well, lemme tell you, until I know just exactly how she got it planned, I am not saying whether I’m in or out. And if you got any sense you do the same.’
Dolly listened to them, could hear every word, and she wondered if Gloria was right, if they should use Semtex. She wondered where they could get some and then she sat on the bed looking over the eiderdown. Laid out, just like Harry used to do it, were her notes and plans for the robbery. She took out the small earpiece and tossed it on to the briefcase, no longer interested in the conversation below. Maybe it was becoming crazy, maybe she was crazy, because she had now decided that the best place to hold up the train was dead centre of the bridge. She was about to switch off the channel connected to the drawing room, but stopped herself.
‘So how did it go with Eddie?’ Ester was asking.
‘Oh, usual, pain in the arse. I’m gonna crash out, see you in the morning.’
Dolly flicked off the microphone and heard Gloria’s bedroom door bang shut. She concentrated, pulling her own door slightly ajar, certain she could hear muffled weeping.
Gloria had her face buried in the pillow, trying to cry without being heard. She hadn’t expected it to hurt so much. She physically jumped when Dolly touched her, whipping round. ‘You go creepin’ around like this an’ you’ll gimme a heart attack,’ she said, shrugging Dolly’s hand away.
‘What you crying about?’
Gloria shook her head. ‘Sad movie on downstairs.’
‘What happened with Eddie, Gloria?’ Dolly sat down on the side of the bed.
Gloria sniffed, wiping her face with the back of her hand, and then decided there was no point in lying. ‘He knew the guns was here and he said the filth paid him a visit, said they was gonna book me on murder, like they knew I was drivin’ that fuckin’ car. They told him about Jimmy Donaldson.’
Gloria pushed her head into the pillow. ‘Well, it wasn’t me, an’ if they come after me for that then I’ll tell them it was that cow Angela. I’m not taking the rap for that — I wasn’t even fuckin’ driving.’
Dolly straightened the candlewick bedspread. ‘They got nothin’. If they had, love, they’d have sorted us out — and fast. They got nothin’ on that car.’
‘And you’d know, would you?’ snapped Gloria.
‘Yes, I’d know. So, go on about Eddie.’
Gloria suddenly deflated and out fell the tears. ‘He grassed us, Dolly, he told them about the guns. He admitted it, said I should get out, like he don’t know what went down here, just that he told the coppers his stash was at the house.’
‘I see,’ Dolly said softly.
‘No, you don’t see, Dolly, you don’t see at all. He was my husband and he would have got me put away if they’d found them, got us all done, I suppose. But he’s my husband and he stitched me up. All the years I stood by him, probably would have waited you know — I mean, he’s not much but he is my husband.’ Gloria sniffed again, and then shrugged her shoulders. ‘Well, now you know, so you want me to pack me bags? I’ll understand, I don’t wanna walk but I reckon you got a right to kick me out.’
Gloria didn’t expect the gentle embrace, and it made her want to sob. Dolly held her a moment, stroked her fuzzy, bleached, dry hair and Gloria could hardly make out what she said she spoke so softly. ‘S’all right, love, I understand. You stay on here because I understand.’ Dolly took out a crumpled tissue and handed it to her. ‘Yes, I understand. You’re hurting now, probably always will, but it gets easier, believe me, it gets easier.’
‘You’re all right, gel, you know that?’ Gloria said and started to cry again as Dolly left the room.
Dolly cleaned her hands and then her face, wiping the tissue across her cheeks. There were no tears, she didn’t think she had any left, but she’d felt that hurt, that pain inside like a jagged bread knife. She saw his face again, saw him standing waiting for her in the darkness, the lake behind him as dark as the night. And yet his face was so clear, as if lit by a pale flickering light.
‘Hello, Doll.’ He had lifted his arms to embrace her and she had moved that much closer. She didn’t want to miss. She wanted to shoot him in his heart. She had succeeded.
Chapter 15
Jim hugged Connie tightly. He was feeling very drunk but not yet as drunk as Connie had hoped. He’d had three pints in the pub and one and a half bottles of wine at his home, plus two of Dolly’s sleeping tablets and he was still rapping, his face flushed, his eyes unfocused, but no way was he about to pass out.
‘I love you,’ he said, hanging his head.
‘I love you too,’ she lied.
‘You do? Is that the truth?’
‘Yeah, I love you, Jim.’
He stepped back, arms wide. ‘I don’t believe it. You love me?’ She was getting really pissed off with him. Then he got down on his knees at her feet. ‘Listen, I know we haven’t known each other very long but I own this house, I mean, on a mortgage right? But I own it and my car and... you really love me?’ He kissed her hand, getting a bit tearful. She passed him another drink and he gulped it down. ‘I need a drink to do this, I never thought I would, give me another...’ She poured the remains of the bottle into his glass and he swallowed that too, still on his knees. ‘Will you marry me?’ He looked up into her face as he slowly fell forward, his arms clasped around her legs, unable to keep himself upright.
‘Jim. Jim?’ She squatted down beside him but he couldn’t open his eyes. He was out for the count. She slipped his duvet around him and put a pillow under his head before searching his pockets, his wallet. Connie searched every drawer and closet but still found nothing as he snored away, now curled up on his side. She was about to give up when she saw a small diary at his bedside. She flicked through it: just the odd memo about dental appointments and mortgage payments but listed at the back was a neat row of numbers. She jotted them down, didn’t know if they meant anything or not, and then replaced the diary, turning off the lights and letting herself out. Jim remained fast asleep on his bedroom floor.
Connie waited for the late-night bus and had a long walk home at the other end. It was raining and she got soaked, so by the time she let herself into her bedroom she was in a foul mood. She couldn’t sleep straight away because she still felt angry; she was being used, she told herself, almost as much as when she was with Lennie. Well, she wasn’t going to take much more of it. Let one of the others get pawed all over, she was well and truly sick of it. She cuddled her pillow tightly. She even felt a bit sorry for Jim, who’d obviously fallen hard. He’d even asked her to marry him, though whether or not he’d still remember doing so in the morning was another matter.
Connie tossed and turned, and then felt terribly sad. Jim was the only man in her entire life who had asked her to marry him. She bashed her pillow to get more comfortable, before deciding to make herself a nightcap.
Connie was surprised to see Ester sitting in the kitchen in a dressing gown, like herself, her hands cupped round a mug of hot chocolate.
‘Can’t sleep, huh?’
Ester shook her head. She hated to admit it but she was jealous: she couldn’t sleep for thinking of Julia being with Norma. ‘You have a good night?’ she asked.
‘Depends what you mean by good,’ Connie answered, resting herself against the Aga. ‘I found some numbers listed in his diary. They may be the codes, they may not be, I dunno. He asked me to marry him.’